


The Gods of Our Shores

by Lady_Therion



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Mantis Menagerie Fic Exchange, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-10 03:16:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6937414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Therion/pseuds/Lady_Therion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belle French fights an uphill battle with the industrial corporation responsible for poisoning the water in her town. When her case stalls, she finds herself striking a deal with the most unlikely...and unnatural...partner. </p><p>Or, Erin Brockovich meets tentacle porn. </p><p>Yes, you read that right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Gods of Our Shores

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rayvah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rayvah/gifts).



> This was written in honor of @mantismenagerie, and also as a gift for the lovely and ever patient @rayvah who prompted: 
> 
> “Belle lives in a village by the sea, which is being threatened by outside forces…. There are legends of a creature that lives deep in the sea that, if you catch it, must make a deal with you (or/grant a wish). Belle has devised a way to capture the creature. I really like Octo!Rum.
> 
> It was wonderful getting to know you! And thank you for your prompt: it definitely pushed me outside my comfort zone and I’d like to think I’m better for it.

 

* * *

 

It began with the children.

Cough, fever, nausea. Innocent, innocuous, invisible.

_It’s flu season after all. Nothing to worry about. Though you might want to head down to the clinic. Get yourself a shot. Stock up on cough syrup. Add some Vitamin C. Nasty things like this are bound to get around. Especially in a small town like Merden._

Weeks later, it did. And by then everyone knew it had nothing to do with the flu.

Because the coughs were now wet with blood, the fevers rose to an alarming degree and the aches and pains gave way to more frightening damage. When the sickness spread further, the hospitals had more to worry about than just the children.

Damning headlines followed public outcry. Talk of corruption spread faster than any airborne contagion. Stories were told. Fingers were pointed. Prayers went unanswered.

But beneath the clenched fists, the shuddering tears, the muted anguish that fell over crowded waiting rooms, the god of this shore stirred inside his darkened caverns. His slumber uneasy. No longer at peace.

*******

 

It’s the pain in her neck that needled Belle awake. She opened her eyes, dry and itchy from sleeping in her contacts, and let them blearily adjust to her surroundings. She’s still in her office, the morning light filtering in at odd angles through her lopsided blinds. A day-old cup of macchiato sat at her right elbow and the answering machine on her left was full to bursting with last night’s messages.

Beneath her head were piles of papers in place of pillows — mostly photocopies and correspondences — hastily shuffled in the order of “bad” to “worse.” For a moment, Belle relished the blank interval between sleep and consciousness. Those few sweet seconds where she was just Belle French, the harried legal clerk from New Merden... and not Belle French, the thorn in the side of Global Axxon Incorporated.

Her respite was cut short by the insistent ringing on her mobile. It’s Archie.

Belle cleared her throat and managed a somewhat coherent, “Hullo?”

“Oh thank God. I’ve been trying to reach you all morning. Where _are_ you?”

“At the office still.” She had to say this louder over the snarl of morning traffic on the other end of the line.

“Good. I’m picking you up in ten. Wait. Damn. Make that fifteen, there’s an accident up ahead.”

“What? Why?”

“Ariel Gotlieb,” Archie said, grimly. “She called me this morning. Says she won’t testify.”

“Won't testify?” The bottom dropped out from Belle’s stomach. “Do you think Axxon…?”

“I’m not sure,” said Archie. “She didn’t say why. Though I wouldn’t put it past those wankers.”

Ariel Gottlieb was the lynchpin in their case — their last trump card in one of the most brutal trials Merden had ever faced since the witch hunts. If Axxon found a way to intimidate her…

“Look we’ll sort this out,” he said, or rather shouted over a distant blaring horn. “We’ll head over to Old Town. Talk to her. See if we can make sense of this.”

“Shite, shite, _shite_.” Belle’s hands composed a flurry of chaos across her desk, sending her coffee cup flying off the other end, its cold and congealed contents spilling across the threadbare carpet. “Yeah, I’ll be ready,” she said, trying to withhold a note of panic from her voice as she gathered everything that seemed even remotely important.

“All right,” he said, tires squealing. “I’ll meet you at the curb.”

***

 

There were two sides to Merden.

First, there is “New Merden.” A small, inland resort town whose largest concern, up until the last few years, had been the number of summer tourists. Then, there is “Old Merden.” A small, historic district along the shoreline whose residents could trace their ancestry back hundreds of years.

The people from Old Merden called New Merden, “New Town.” They also called it other things. Mostly snobbish and self-important. In fact, a popular saying went, _“There’s pretentious and then there’s New Town pretentious.”_

The people from New Merden called Old Merden, “Old Town.” They also called it other things. Mostly strange and reclusive. In fact, a popular saying went, _“There’s weird and then there’s Old Town weird.”_

Rumor had it that Old Town still believed in pagan gods.

Both places were connected by a thin winding road that wove through steep green hills. They had little else in common.

Until Axxon, of course.

Belle could see the picket signs from the passenger seat.

“Arrest Axxon.”

“Water is a right.”

“Pray for Merden.”

“Stop poisoning our children.”

Belle grimaced. “Christ, I just want this to be over. We’re so close Archie. So close.”

“I know, Belle.”

The case of Merden vs. Axxon was over three years’ worth of sleepless nights and near unhealthy, single-minded sleuthing. Belle pulled every tooth in nearly every county and beyond to expose their corruption — her means occasionally verging on the barely legal. But when it came to playing dirty, she didn’t feel like she had a choice. Because Axxon’s own legal team could _still_  outmaneuver her at every turn. In her darkest hours (and there were quite a few of them) she wondered if she could ever hold them accountable for what they’ve done.

Archie himself (kind, patient and resilient Archie) claimed that, whether they won the case or not, he would find a way to make every single one of Axxon’s board members drink a cup of what they left behind in Merden’s water supply.

It was Belle that made sure the press was paying attention as they both gathered evidence of Axxon’s gross neglect and horrific indifference to their town’s plight. It was _their_ pipelines that corroded in their water. It was _their_ greed to save their bottom line that forced her neighbors, her friends, their _children_ to pay the price.

Their drive up to Old Town was silent and fraught with tension. Eventually the road gave way to rocky paths and dirt trails; Archie’s old Honda swaying on every uneven surface, making their teeth clack together.

Finally, they made their way to a stone cottage at the end of a lane that was furthest out to the shore. In fact the sea was so close, they could smell the sprays of salt from here. Archie placed the car into park, but Belle stayed him with a gentle hand. “I think you’d better wait out here.” She eyed him intently. “No offense, but Old Town isn’t friendly to lawyers.”

“But _you’re_ technically a…”

“Technically, I’m just a clerk.” She grinned.

Archie gave her a put out expression, but let her have her way. He didn’t used to before they partnered on this case, which showed just how much he was placing his trust into her. “Call me if you need anything.”

Belle walked past the low wooden gate. Her tweed coat brushed on all sides by overgrown sunflowers. From where she stood, she could hear Ariel’s voice from the back garden, drifting out like the tendrils of chimney smoke.

She always did have a lovely voice.

 _Fathoms below, below_  
_From whence wayward westerlies blow_  
_Where Triton is king and his merpeople sing_  
_In mysterious fathoms below..._

She found Ariel rolling out bedsheets on a clothesline. Her long red hair was tied in a haphazard knot at the back of her head. Loose strands of it blew across her careworn, but charming face.

“Ariel.”

She startled, nearly dropping her load of laundry. “Belle. What are you…? You shouldn’t be here.”

Her skittishness reminded Belle of the first time they met, when Belle was merely another woman from New Town trying to exploit poor and uneducated Ariel.

Which was exactly what Axxon did, when one of their board members hired her as his cleaning lady and thought her too stupid to understand the ramifications of what he and his colleagues were doing. Unfortunately for his arse, she _did_ understand. And she wanted him to pay for it. Dearly.

It only made Belle burn with all the more curiosity as to _why_ she changed her mind.

“I just want to talk,” said Belle. “That’s all.”

Ariel looked at her warily, bouncing the laundry basket at her hip. “I’m sorry Belle. I really am. But I made up my mind.”

“I know you have,” Belle said, gently. “What I want to know is _why_. I mean, after everything?”

Ariel bit her lip.

“Is it...did Axxon come here? Did they say anything to you?”

Ariel quickly shook her head. “No, no. It isn’t that. Look, you really wouldn’t understand. So just—”

A low moan strayed from one of the open windows. Ariel paled before quickening her step toward the house. Belle followed her.  
  
Inside, Ariel’s cottage was a menagerie of home cooked smells. Herbs dangled in corded bundles from the ceiling. A tea kettle boiled under a wood-burning stove. A spread of seashells and silver dollars cluttered the mantle above a burning hearth —  Ariel did always love her knickknacks.

There was something else too, something that Belle never noticed before. A little grey-faced statue with the long, twisting arms of an octopus. Some kind of krakken? Her mother used to tell her stories about those. Monsters that dwelled in the deep. They used to give her nightmares.

“Belle? If you’re still there, can you bring in some tea?”

“Sure,” she said, trying to suppress a shiver.

She’d been to Ariel’s home often enough to know which cupboard held the tray and which cupboard held the honey. Once she gathered everything into place, she carried it with her to Ariel’s bedroom — where she sat on the edge of the mattress next to her ailing husband.

“Hey,” said Belle, setting the tray by his side.

“Hey,” Eric said weakly, grasping her hands. He looked so much worse than the last time she saw him. His cheeks were sunken in, making him look gaunt and malnourished. His cough diminished his voice down to a whisper. But even so, Eric was still Eric. His smile said as much.

Which is more than Belle could say about some of the other patients she saw.

Belle liked Eric. Mostly because he was as impulsive and optimistically bullheaded as she had been throughout this entire ordeal. It was because of him that Ariel decided to come forward, seeking out Belle and Archie’s help by happenstance.

“She can’t go back there of course,” he explained to them, shortly after Ariel’s resignation. “She knows too much. But of course, _they_ don’t know that.”

Eric had, by far, been their largest supporter. And while he often wished he could leave the four walls of his room to help them with their cause, it was his prompting that encouraged his wife to tell Belle Axxon’s secrets.

And to also encourage her to tell some secrets of their own.

“I know we’re from different ends of the stick,” he told Belle once, “But Merden is still Merden. And we can’t fight the fight alone.”

It was Eric who told her all the ins and outs of Old Merden. Of course, he couldn’t tell her everything. “I’m loyal, you see,” he said with a shrug. But what he _did_ tell her was enough to hold Axxon under a more damning light. He told her which places to visit to get access to old blueprints. He told her who was sleeping illicitly with who in order to find out which board member was hiding what in their offshore accounts.

It was Eric’s ear to the ground, as much as Ariel’s, that allowed Belle and Archie to build their case. A case that their own colleagues deemed “a lost cause.”

“Pff, but what do I have to show for it?” said Eric, when Belle once praised him for his efforts. “Nothing but a black set of lungs and dwindling unemployment checks.” Eric didn’t take being bedbound lightly. And it wasn’t until Ariel had been hired by that Axxon executive did they realise why he had gotten so sick in the first place. But they were both out of work now. That, along with the surmounting medical bills that siphoned off their savings with each passing day, made their situation nothing short of desperate. Convincing Belle more than ever that they needed to win.

“Uh oh,” said Eric, reading her expression. “I see you found out the bad news.”

“Yes I did,” said Belle, casting a quick glance at Ariel who seemed to be very focused on the view outside the window. “I was hoping to find out why.” _And to see what_ you _thought of it._ If Eric knew why Ariel decided not to testify, that meant he agreed with her on backing down. Which didn’t seem like him at all.

Clearly, something was wrong.

Eric winced as he sat up in bed, Ariel fussing over him as he reached for his cup of tea. “Would you mind leaving us for a bit, love? We’ll only be a moment.”

Ariel looked stricken. “Eric…You can’t...What if…?”

“She needs to know,” he said, his words gentle but final. “We at least owe her that much.”

Ariel pierced the both of them with a glare, clearly holding herself back from saying something regrettable. Instead, she released her tension in one long exhale, turning to Belle as she said, “Try not to tire him out too much.”

When the door shut behind her, Eric lowered his empty cup and said, quite casually, “Belle, do you believe in God?”

Of all the things she had thought he would ask, Belle certainly didn’t expect _that_. “I’m sorry. What does that have do with—?”

“More than you think. And don’t fib. I might still be able to help you. _We_ might still be able to help you—depending on your answer.”

Stunned, Belle can only gape at him before letting her instincts take over. Because she owed Eric and Ariel just as much. They knew just as much as she did the risks of getting involved in their case. So if all they wanted was the truth...“I _used_ to believe in God. Though I didn’t call him God. I just had this idea that the universe was too big for us to be alone. And then, you know, my parents died. So I thought…”

She didn’t finish her sentence. Every other reasoning she could think of was a stone to be stumbled on. “What does it matter anyway? Eric, what the hell is going on?”

His answering gaze pinned her down like a butterfly on a wall.

“It matters because of what I’m about to tell you.” Belle swallowed several times as he beckoned her closer. “Which is one of Old Merden’s deepest, darkest secrets. Say… have you noticed how rough the seas have been lately?”

*******

 

It was late into the evening when Belle finally left the cottage. In some pocket of her mind that was still able to process coherent information, she wondered if Archie was still parked outside... and how she should probably offer to buy him dinner for making him wait so long.

She walked out of Eric’s room in a numb and disbelieving state, unable to register anything but the new weight of a coin in her pocket. Far bigger and far older than any of one the ones Ariel placed on her mantle.

She was about to head out, when a shadow lurking in the doorway stopped her.

“Wait,” said Ariel, taking her wrist with more force than Belle would ever thought the slight woman would possess. “Before you go, you’ll have to learn his name. We don’t speak it aloud here. In fact, it’s bad luck to. But I’ll whisper it to you. Just the once. So listen carefully.”

Belle nodded, nonplussed.

Ariel took a moment to gather herself; grimly, as if she were about to recite a eulogy. Then she pressed her mouth close to Belle’s ear and whispered the strangest name.

***

 

“This is completely daft,” said Archie. “ _They’re_ completely daft. _You’re_ completely daft. _I’m_ completely daft. Just call it a bloody sideshow.”

Belle sighed, pouring them both another glass of cheap wine.

They commiserated in Belle’s living room—Belle insisting that she’d rather not spend another all-nighter at the office. Archie sat on the couch, his necktie undone and short sleeves rolled up to his elbow. Belle sat cross-legged on the floor, already in her evening sweats. The casualness of it all reminded her of the study sessions she used to have in secondary. Innocent days that she used to spend dreaming of places other than Merden, when she still had actual potential and didn’t have to fight to be taken seriously by anyone who wasn’t Archie or Eric or Ariel.

 _God, she really needed take it easy_ , she thought as she placed the wine bottle further away from her.

“I know it’s not...conventional,” she began diplomatically. “But we’re running out of options, Archie. We’re due back in court next week and unless we have Ariel…”

“I know,” said Archie, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s just...I have a very hard time thinking you doing this will amount to any good. I mean, do you have any idea of how bloody absurd this all sounds? ‘Oh yes, Belle. The only way you’ll get my wife to testify is if you summon a thousand-year-old sea monster that just so happens to live at the beach.

He’s been reeking havoc on the seas for quite some time you know. Ever since Axxon spoiled his water kingdom or whatever the hell you want to call this farce of a Disney movie. And we can’t testify until he eats a child sacrifice or some other such tripe.' You know, I _knew_ people in Old Merden were strange, but Lord above, this is just….”

“Don’t be unkind,” Belle said seriously. “They think we’re _just_ as absurd you know.”

“Oh yes. Us and all our modern conveniences and scientific progress and not to mention the leaps forward since the Enlightenment. God Belle, what are we going to _do_?”

“ _You_ don’t have to do anything.”

Archie stared at her. “No. You're not seriously  _considering_ …Belle, look at me.”

She did. With her chin up. And Archie knew her well enough by now to know that she had made up her mind. “All I have to do is go down there. See what all the fuss is about. Who knows? Maybe they were being metaphorical.” It was a reach, she knew, even as she said it. “Maybe I’ll even find more clues about Axxon’s pipelines.”

Archie leaned back, downing the rest of his wine in one gulp. “What I don’t understand is why they can't do it themselves. This thing…. he’s _their_ bloody god, isn’t he?”

No, not quite. Though Belle doesn’t exactly know how else to explain this to Archie. Besides, she had been sworn to secrecy and could only give him a half truth. And yes, there _was_ a reason. A very specific reason as to why Belle was more qualified to talk to this...deity more than anyone else in Old Merden.

“We need an outsider. Someone not born on our soil,” Eric told her. “And we also need a virgin.”

 _Wonderful._ Who knew the two things Belle disliked most about herself would come in handy to save her arse one day?

“What’s your plan Belle?”

Belle plopped her head back on an upturned couch pillow, wishing her mother were here. Or her father, even.

“I’ll set out tomorrow,” was all she said. “What else can I do?”

*******

 

Belle drove out in the early morning, when the sun barely tinged the far off horizon with its faint light. It was overcast and rainy, and Belle came ill-prepared with only a light jacket and old pair of wellies. She inwardly groaned at the prospect of tracking sand with her all day. The coin Ariel gave her is sat neatly in her pocket, and occasionally Belle found herself rubbing its smooth surface for luck.

The cavern Eric spoke of was located towards the end of the beach, where tourists were barred from going. There was one place where the fence was cut loose and it was only a matter of time before Belle could slip right through the gap.

After that, it was all a matter of scaling a jagged path of rocks that led to the cavern in question. It was just like Eric said it would be: dark and scary as all hell with a wooden sign hanging out front screaming “KEEP OUT” in red letters. If she wasn’t already scared witless, she would have laughed at the Scooby Doo level of ridiculousness her day had already reached. And it wasn’t even lunch time!

Of course her phone had no signal out here. No one to call in case she fell and broke her neck. But her phone did come in handy as a good enough flashlight, which was how she found the well at the back of the cavern. She reached into her coat pocket, matching the symbol on the coin (the very same krakken she saw on Ariel’s mantle) with the symbol on the well’s stone base.

She approached it carefully, as though something were lurking at the bottom of it. For all Eric and Ariel told her, there might as well have been.

“Okay,” she murmured to herself. “Okay, okay. Here we go.”

She took the coin with shaking hands. Though she doesn’t really understand why they’re shaking to begin with. _Nothing was actually going to happen, right?_ Then, gingerly, she dropped it in—though she didn't hear it reach the bottom like she expected it to. Not wanting to waste any more time, she took a deep breath before saying the name Ariel whispered to her the night before, “Rumplestiltskin. Rumplestiltskin. Rumplestiltskin....”

At first, there was nothing. Just the sound of the water lapping, the wind howling and the deathly chill that lingered in every corner. She waited five minutes. Ten minutes. Soon, she felt herself deflate, not knowing why she felt so disappointed. _Just what exactly did she think was going to happen? Of course there were no gods in Merden. How could she…?_

“Well, well,” a dark voice crooned, seeming to come from everywhere at once. And all the blood in her veins suddenly froze over. “What have we here? A little house fly has found its way into my web...”

She felt something reach for her. A soft thump against her leg. Another one against her shoulder. A hard shove from behind.

“Shite,” she said, trying to stumble back towards the entrance. But it was too dark to see.

She gasped as she feels a warm brush against her face. It was most definitely _not_ a hand. But before she could bat it away, she felt it curl around her neck, two more tangling around her wrists and another pair winding around her ankles.

She was too afraid to cry out as she felt herself being dragged towards the lip of the well. The world falling away as she plunged into its murky depths.

*******

 

Belle blinked once, twice, before her vision cleared and she saw…

A man? Yes. No. Sort of.

He _looked_ like a man. Straggly waves of silver-brown hair framed a strange face that was all sharp planes, a cruel mouth and...golden skin? He also wore clothes that called back to a bygone era: a cravat, a jerkin, knee-high leather boots—all glittering with colorful scales. And also, also...

 _Jesus Christ. That was_ a lot _of tentacles._

She couldn’t see where they all came from. From this angle, they seemed to protrude from behind and below his waistcoat like multiple pairs of hidden hands that could extend and retract at will. If her heart weren’t threatening to break apart her chest already, she would have had the sense to scream.

As Belle took in all of him, she realised that he...this creature... had chained her to the wall. Both her arms raised above her head in rusted manacles.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” he told her. “Just to please me.”

“I’m...I’m not afraid,” she lied. “I’m just...surprised. I didn’t think you’d be...are you the one they call Rumplestiltskin?”

He laughed, a strange, high-pitched bird-like twitter that set her teeth on edge. “I have been called many in names in the past, girl child. But yes, the mortals who remember the Old Words do call me that.”

“Oh,” she said. _Because really...what else could she say to that?_

“Come. Tell me. What brings you knocking at my door?”

She swallowed. “If I tell you, will you set me free?”

He lifts a long-clawed finger to his chin. “I may think on it.”

“I...er…,” Belle struggled to form the right words. _God, she had never expected this to actually happen!_ “I came to make a deal.”

“Ah...famous last words.”

_Shite. What had she gotten herself into?_

“Wait,” she said, heart beating quickly. “You ah...I know you’re sick. Or at least, not as strong as you once were. The people in Old Merden told me. They know from watching the tide. They know you need...” And here she just repeated Eric’s words, “They know you need a maiden. Right?”

He didn’t say anything for a moment. Then he barked a cruel laugh that echoed throughout the dark walls. Then with a wave of his hand, he released her. She fell onto the hard floor in the most undignified heap, her bottom smarting from the rocky surface. She looked at her surroundings, the high ceilings covered with tektites that looked like rows of fangs, and realised that she must be in some other part of the cavern. Somewhere further underground.

“And are _you_ to be my sacrifice? I must say, I find it flattering that the children of those who feared me in the old days still watch the tides. And it is true...whatever poison has leaked into your mortal wells...has come to my domain.” He dragged her close, not with his...his magic?...but with his...other limbs. One of them twisting around her wrist to drag her forward.

“Hey!” She didn’t like being manhandled, god or no. So without thinking, slapped him across the face. Putting her weight into it.

“My,” he said, placing a hand on his cheek. She was disappointed to see that it didn’t hurt him at all. “But you _are_ spirited.” He dragged her closer. “There were many who came before you. Kings and queens. Beggars and whores. All sought to capture me. To sway me. All were foolish to in the end.” His voice lilted like the waves. She felt him reaching for her with one of his many _other_ coils and stiffened as one snakes itself around her neck. It felt alive and warm. Not cold and slimy like she expected. It caressed. Coaxed. “They brought me their gold, their hearts, their very souls. Tell me, sweet girl child, what is it that _you_ will offer? To heal my blackened heart?”  
  
Belle swallowed, her heart racing. But not out solely out of fear. No, it’s more because she’s…she’s….she couldn’t even say what she was. All she knew was the flush on her cheeks and the strange heat blooming in her belly. It shocked her. It absolutely _shocked_ her. So much so, that she felt herself give way to her deepest and darkest instincts.  
  
It is as if the Belle French she knew—the one who lived within the comfort of provincial walls with provincial prospects and provincial means—gave way to another Belle. The Belle that has always balked at convention and injustice. The Belle that has always been her source of strength.

It was this Belle that whispered, “I’d give you a kiss,” and she shocked herself again. “The Maiden’s Kiss. Like in the songs of Old Merden. How does it go? That with seven kisses from a fair maid, the gods of the deep can rise again? Their hearts healed? Immortality restored? Something like that?”  
  
Again, Rumplestiltskin didn’t speak. “Now _that_ is an old remedy. Not one that I’ve been privy to my long eternity, I’ll admit.” He tightened his hold, forcing her to look deep into those amber gold eyes. “And would you give me _your_ virgin kisses, dearie? Even to a creature as hideous as I?”  
  
_Would she?_

She thinks of Ariel at Eric’s bedside. Of Archie in his office.

_Yes. For them, she would._

“I’ll do anything.”

“My favorite words,” he said with sickly sweetness.“Very well.” He pulls her roughly to him. His body is all but vibrating with energy, “The deal is struck.”

And he took his first kiss.

*******

 

Ariel dug her bare feet into the sand, her arms wrapped around her body as she observed the calming of the sea. How the rough waters petered out into smooth sheets of glass. As though the turbulent winds that stirred them into a frenzy were never there to begin with.

She doesn’t need to turn to know that Belle was there. Though she can hear from the way Belle spoke—hushed and humbled—all that she needed to know.

“You spoke to him?”

Belle nodded. “He...I made a deal with him.”

Only then did Ariel turn to her, eyes warm with compassion. “You’ve taken on a large burden.”  
  
Belle looked away, reddening. Remembering his hot mouth on hers. Consuming her. “I _chose_ to. That’s all that matters. He says that he’ll help us. That he’ll keep the shores safe. As long as I keep my end of the bargain.”

Ariel had the compassion not to ask any more questions. She only nodded in return and said, “All right. I’ll testify.”

*******

 

Belle returned to him.

As much as she was able to, anyway. Which was often enough with the intervening weeks between court dates. Axxon was much slower to move than either she or Archie anticipated. It meant they were treading carefully. That they had something to worry about. And if they were worried, then that was certainly something to be cheerful of.

“I don't know what you did, Belle,” said Archie. “But it seems like luck is finally on our side.”

_But speaking of treading carefully..._

She surprised herself at how very little it took to convince herself to come to Rumplestiltskin’s... _lair_ or whatever he liked to call it. They were having tea, something that was at least familiar to her, in high-ceilinged room that had been carved out of deep sea granite. She wondered if he only provided it for her sake ( _because really, did gods drink tea?_ ) and felt irritated by the twinge of guilt she felt appearing ungrateful for his thinking of her.

He had donned another scaly black coat, which was horrible with all its spikes and rough edges. Belle wondered if it was thick enough to hide those other...appendages...because for all his appearances to look _mostly_ mortal, they were hidden from her sight. Did he also wear that for her sake? To make her less afraid? Or was it for his own sake? To protect himself from her disgust?

She wished she could tell him that she didn’t mind them. But then, he probably wouldn’t have believed her.

“This is not a _lair_ ,” he said to her, with more of that vicious taunting that annoyed more than it should have. “This is my temple. Or rather, the remains of it. It used to be much larger than this, you know. Far reaching across the seven seas before I was confined to these walls.”

“What happened?”

“Ah,” he said, waggling his fingers with childish glee. “ _That_ is another story you’ll not hear from me, dearie. I’m afraid there are secrets that only gods can share amongst themselves. No mortals may be privy to them. But now?” He rose to stand close to her. Close enough to raise the hairs on the backs of her arms. Close enough to breathe him in: the smell of the night sea, the cold wind and something that was indisputably male. It was all surprisingly heady and she marveled at her own reaction to it. He tipped her chin back. “Now dearie. Time to offer me your payment.”

She kissed him without further preamble. This is the third time.

It wasn’t like the first time. When she was scared overcome with equal parts bravado and terror. Not of _him_ necessarily. But of the fact that everything she knew to be true—which didn’t include the existence of malevolent sea gods—was suddenly not true. She came better prepared this time. Her senses responding to the surprisingly smooth texture of his lips. _It wasn’t all bad_ , she thought. _Not bad at all._  
  
When they parted, he looked into her eyes like he was searching for something. Some hidden intent. Some lie. But apparently he found none, and only bowed as courteously as he did the first time they met. “Thank you, my dear. You will receive my payment in kind.”

*******

 

Over the next few days, Belle learned that Axxon would be replacing key members of their legal team.

“This is very good news Belle,” said Archie. “It means they know they’re getting cornered. It’s a bloody miracle, I swear.”

“Yes,” said Belle, looking out her window toward the calm and listless sea. “It’s a miracle, all right.”

*******

 

She continued to give him his kisses. A fourth. A fifth.

At first, they were perfunctory. A transaction, nothing more. Though she didn’t know if that made her feel better or worse: that he seemed to agree that what lay between them was purely a matter of mutual benefit. She gave him “virgin kisses” and in turn he gave her...

_He gave her..._

“Your trial is going well, I gather?” He served her dinner this time. A plate of fine crab rolls and baked sea bass drowned in lemon. She noticed that he didn’t seem to need to eat himself.

“Yes,” she replied, picking at her food. Though she suspected that he already _knew_ that given his smugly pleased expression.

She didn’t know why she seemed so distracted today. He was behaving no more horribly than usual, taking joy in whatever discomfort she couldn’t manage to hide from him. Interestingly, he still didn’t seem to get that her discomfort came from his constant second-guessing of her. Rather than his appearance, which she was more or less used to by now.

“Those guys at Axxon are grasping at straws now. Ariel coming forward has prompted a lot of people to share their testimony. A lot of people from their own personal staff. One of the CEOs has resigned.” She took another bite of her crab roll. “The writing’s on the wall. It’s only a matter of time before they see it.”

He considered this. “Hmm...and tell me, girl. What’s in it for you?”

“Pardon?”

“You came to me. Begging for my favor…”

She snorted. “I _hardly_ think I begged for…”

“To save your people in exchange for your...kisses and company. Why? From what you told me, these people have done nothing but doubt you. Though they wallow in their sickness, all but a few chose to help you in your cause.”

She bristled at that. Not because he was wrong, but because he was right.

“Tell me girl, do you think yourself a hero of your own tale? Saving these ingrates by offering yourself to a monster?”

She blushed hotly. “You’re _not_ a monster. You’re just—”

“A what?” He said, eyes glittering, daring her to say it.

“You’re just…,” she sputtered. “You’re just an idiot. That’s all.”

He stared at her again ( _and for God's sake, could he ever just_ blink _for once?_ ) and broke into a laugh. A real, honest, belly-deep laugh that makes her laugh with him.

What shocked her the most was how right it felt.

*******

 

It’s the sixth kiss that seemed to do them both in. Though looking back, she is hard pressed to explain why.

Because enough time has passed now, from summer into autumn, for Belle to realise that there is something more she feels towards this strange creature known as Rumplestiltskin. Though she couldn’t say exactly what.

In the time she has spent with him, she has seen every flash of his mercurial moods. All of them various shades of dark, sullen, flighty and anxious. But with every night she visited him, he grew...brighter. Not less careful, but more carefree. Less apt to make her irritated just for the fun of it. Putting away his barbs in favor of kinder and gentler ways to make her smile.

That didn’t explain anything though about the dreams.

Dreams in her bed, where she could have sworn that he was with her, her nostrils flaring as he drew close. Her breath quickening as she felt something...something primal rear its head as he cupped her breasts, worried his stained teeth into her neck and parted her thighs ever wider…

These dreams came in waves. First, the barest of trickles. Then suddenly, over the course of the long summer months, they explode into a roaring riptide of sensation. A vicious ache bloomed between her legs every night she thought of him.

Thought of him in _that_ way. Her strange and standoffish sea god. Would he take her with long powerful strokes, or would he tease her with shallow thrusts until she begged to be taken all the way? Or...would he take her in multiple ways? Those long, coiling, tentacles of his…

Indecent images came into her mind unbidden, coloring her conscious thoughts with all of sorts of lewd possibilities. Sometimes it was too much to bear. And she wondered if she should somehow feel ashamed? But no...when she thought of Rumplestiltskin, she didn’t think of shame. Instead, she thought of freedom. Instead, she thought of deliverance.  
  
After she’s done, panting from the sheer, abject pleasure of her dreams and her own touch, she stares at the ceiling of her bedroom. Suddenly knowing that these dreams...these reveries...these thoughts..were more than just that.

Because as she laid in her bed, with her senses teeming on the smell of the sea, and the salt of the water...she knew these were no dreams at all.

*******

 

Which is why in the end, he decided to send her away. Just as the trial reached its conclusion. Just as those who poisoned their water were finally brought to justice. It was a victory for Belle. Though she found, to her utter surprise, that she couldn’t enjoy it fully. Not without him.

She replayed their conversation over and over as she found herself outside the cavern, unable to enter at all, no matter how hard she tried to cross the threshold.

She remembered Rumplestiltskin’s last words to her, when she came to bestow him her seventh and final kiss...and to talk to him about these visions she just knew they both shared.

_Go._

_Go?_

_You’re free,dearie. I release you. My blackened heart has healed. The seas will quiet. No harm will come to those on this shore. You have my word._

_But..._

_But nothing. Go._

_When should I come back?_

_Oh no, my sweet. I don’t expect I’ll ever see you again._

She wondered why he had done it. But then that was a stupid question. She already knew why.

It was because he thought he was a monster. And fair maids do not belong to monsters.

That didn’t mean their parting didn’t sting. Because he did what she thought he would never do: and that was deciding her fate for her.

*******

 

Hours bled into days. Days bled into months. And the seasons changed again.

And in that time without him, every victory Belle achieved was an empty one. Every waking moment, she felt as though she were slowly coming awake, and yet slowly coming apart. As though her life were caught in some chrysalis where her emotions were warring within her, fighting to be free. Fighting for a transformation.

The trial reached its end shortly after autumn, and a colder chill settled in to rattle the dead leaves. Belle sat in her office, alone, a half-empty bottle of wine sitting on the edge of her desk.

Her fight was over.

Three years of her life and her fight was over. There was a part of her — after the myriad of celebrations that took place throughout the evening — that collapsed in utter relief. It was an outcome not even Belle was entirely sure they would achieve. And now everyone who ever doubted her came up to offer their congratulations. She accepted their kind words, their sudden changes of heart, with as much grace as she could. She did this for them, after all, and their families.

In reality, she was just one small piece on a much larger board. Larger than anyone in Merden could imagine. And the only reason she knew this was because of Rumplestiltskin.

Archie himself delivered her bonus check weeks later once everything was settled, when the media buzz died down and those responsible were sentenced to prison. They would find a way to wheedle their out of it, she knew. But Belle had a feeling that this was the _one_ case where their vast amounts of money wouldn’t help them.

_And speaking of money..._

She almost choked when she sees the number on her check: 2.5 million pounds.

“You more than deserve this,” said Archie. “You kept me believing Belle. _All of us_ believing.”

She looked at Archie, helplessly. Then threw her arms around him, dropping the check at their feet.

“Belle?” said Archie, confusion rippling over his tempered features. “Is everything all right?”

“I don’t know, Archie,” she said, honestly. “I really don’t.”

But deep into the night, sweat-soaked and panting, after she rubbed and rubbed herself into sweet completion—imagining it was _his_ touch instead of hers—Belle stared at her ceiling once again and came to a final decision.

*******

 

She couldn’t return to him until several months later, when all her loose ends were tied and Merden was deep into winter. A cold moon cast its pale light across the grey beach. Layers of frost crunched beneath her feet as she made her way toward his temple — her heart much lighter than it had ever been.

She would have come sooner. She only wanted to say goodbye first. Properly.

In the morning, Archie will find a letter of resignation on his desk. In it will be the truth of how grateful she was to have met him, because he was the only person living to have believed in her at all since before the trial — and that meant more to her than anything.

She didn’t give him specifics: only that by the time he read it, she would be long gone, away on her next adventure. And, if he could please do so, to leave her bonus — all 2.5 million pounds of it — to Ariel and Eric.

There was little else for her to do, except to stop by her mother and father’s graves to kiss their headstones and once again thank them for all they had done.

When she saw Rumplestiltskin again, the cavern entrance open to her at last, he spared her an oddly cold glance before turning toward the lip of the well. All of his malice and mockery were gone, replaced by an eerie absence of feeling. Had he been waiting for her there all this time? Maybe in hope? Maybe in vain? The thought of it both thrilled her and saddened her.

“Our deal is done,” said Rumplestiltskin. “Your price has been paid. What more do you want of me?”

Belle blinked.

_Oh._

_Does he really think that I…?_

_Oh._

She bit her tongue as she fought a rising swell of indignation. After all, she _had_ just given up everything she had ever known for him. But, as “godlike” as he made himself out to be, he didn’t seem to have the sense or the insight to figure out why she returned to him in the first place.  
  
There were so many things she had yet to learn about him….

“I thought about you,” she began gently, willing herself to be patient.

“In your nightmares, perhaps.” Even when he sneered, she can hear a note of vulnerability in his voice. Though he kept her at an arm’s length, he _wanted_ her to bridge the distance.

“I missed you,” she pressed on, ignoring his barb. “That’s why I came back.”

She drew closer to him, until they stood side by side, until she was able to lean close enough to search his eyes which seemed to be transfixed on anything but her. There were stories of hurt and anguish there, layers of loneliness and pain too. She knew those all too well. She hoped he would someday share them with her. Begin to heal truly, with her by his side, like they were meant to in the beginning.

But there’ll be time enough for that.

“I didn’t come here to make another deal,” she said. “I came to prove you wrong.”

“Tch. There have been countless others who once set out to do the very same. And what became of them, I wonder? Their ambition and pride were their own undoing. I’d caution you to not fall prey to your own.”

 _That_ got her.

“You know, for a god, you really are such an idiot.” And here Belle reaped the satisfaction of seeing him dumbstruck.“I’m not here to ask you for more. I’m here so I can _stay_ with you.” Her voice rose, her heart raced. God, why couldn’t he _understand_? “Can’t you tell how I feel about you? Or do I have to prove it?”

“What do you—? Surely you cannot mean...”

She grabbed his face...that strange, ethereal, golden face...and kissed him. Their final kiss. Deeply and sweetly, like she has finally come home, and then rougher and wilder. Nibbles giving way to bites.

“I don’t want to talk anymore,” she said.

He grasped her close to him, eyes filled with awe. As though _she_ was the thousand-year-old deity. “Tell me, Belle. What _do_ you want?”

She kissed him again. “I want you to show me…what gods can do to girls like me.”

He didn’t need to hear any more than that. A wave of his hand and Belle felt a familiar rush of vertigo. Her body tumbling forward and back until she found herself sprawled with him on a soft bed. _His_ bed, she realises. All gilt, gold, pearls…

And the both of them completely naked.

_Just like in their dreams which were not dreams._

It was too dim in his bedroom to see his body and Belle suspected that was his intention. There was no artificial light, but instead a starlike glow that emanated from the tapestries of lichen along the stone walls. But she could reach out and feel the marvelous planes of skin across his back, his hips, his arms, his legs, and then his other strange and protruding limbs that undulated all around her, pleased by her stimulation. But most of all...she can feel his fierce arousal.

And her own.

“I can taste how ready you are for me,” he said.

 _Yes_ , she thought, her bare thighs falling open of their own accord. She very, _very_ much was.

“I dreamed about this,” she told him, and he shuddered in delight. “I’ve gotten off so many times, I thought my fingers would fall off.” She blushed at her lusty confession, at actually having spoken the words aloud. But Belle, if anything, had always said what was on her mind. _Her blessing and her curse_ , her father used to say. “I dreamed that you would take me here. That we would be together.”

“And?” he asked, feverish and desperate. “What is it you wish? Tell me. Tell me and I would give you the world.”

“I don’t want the world,” she gasped against his mouth. Because honestly, the world could come later. Right now, she is only fixated on the frenzy of sensations plucking at her nerves. Her fingers digging into his hair as he thoroughly laved her collarbone. “I just want _you_ , Rumple.”

He stopped and stilled. And Belle wondered if she said the wrong thing. It wouldn’t be the first time. Then, quietly, “If it is I you want, it will be as you wish.”

Then suddenly, he was everywhere. Everywhere at once.

She could feel herself ebb and flow, borne gently along a rushing tide of pleasure. Full of surrender and filled to the brim with those wonderful, otherworldly tendrils. Warm and thick and curling possessively around her throat, her arms, her belly, her thighs…

They pinned her below, entwined from above, and then...and then...oh _God_ , reached in to curl inside her...

She gasps and arches, her senses flooded by the familiar and yet not familiar.

She feels the coarse texture of his clever hands as he roamed the swells and valleys of her shivering body. The edge of his nails as he tweaked and pinched her breasts, the greediness of his tongue as he suckled them into hard peaks. Then she felt...oh yes, she _felt_ …

Not his cock. No, not yet. Instead it is a lithe and long limb that teased her entrance which coaxed an embarrassing rush of wetness that dismayed her, but delighted him. He doesn’t push it into her the way she begged him to with each roll of her hips. No, he parted her folds so he could reach that hard and hidden nub between her thighs.

He was absolutely merciless. Punishing her until her cries turned animal-like. And she was so far gone with white hot need that she hardly even cared. She felt herself getting closer..and closer....just a hair’s breadth away from an explosive climax before he stopped his teasing entirely.

“ _No_ ,” she whimpered, raking his bare back with her nails.“No, _please_. I need you. I’m...I’m...”

“I told you, dearest,” he said, licking a long stripe between her breasts with that wicked tongue. The only thing keeping her sanity in check was knowing on some deep, instinctual level that he was as just as far gone as she was. “If it is I you want, it will be as you wish.”

Those strange, winding tentacles reach below the sheets to tug at her ankles. Encircling them like ropes. Tightening their hold in wonderfully familiar way. Spreading her thighs even further apart.

“Oh my lady love,” he whispered, spreading her fluids with those claw-like fingers, “How _wet_ you are for me.” And when he dipped those fingers first into his own mouth and then into hers, in and out, in and out, over and over, again and again, it drove her further over the verge until she loses herself completely.

_Yes. Oh yes...this is what she wants..._

She could feel his cockhead. The flesh much harder than she expected, but the sheer force and surprising strength of it only inflames her skyrocketing arousal. Her skin and soul were on fire, and every crevice of her filled as she clung to him with all her meager strength, back bowing with each powerful thrust as he fucked her into blissful oblivion.

“I will take you to the heavens and back,” he vowed.

And _oh God, he **does**_ **.** Because she could feel herself cresting higher and higher and when she reached her peak...when _they_ reached it together...it was nothing short of the sweetest and most carnal ecstasy.

And Belle, the woman who has never been able to achieve much of anything growing up, grinned at the fact that she has _seriously just fucked a god_.

And to think, how her colleagues once said she wouldn’t amount to much.

Crashing down from her zenith as he spent himself inside her, she was all but a tingling mass of raw nerves while he clung to her jealously like a hoard of sunken treasure. He rained kisses over her flesh. Her hair. Her temple. The dried salt tracks of her tears.

As she burrowed into his possessive embrace, her senses filled with nothing but him, she thinks back to the promise she made. To stay by his side would be giving up a part of herself. She knew that with proud and painful clarity. The Belle French that grew up in prosaic and provincial New Merden would be no more.

But the woman she would become...the woman who she always thought she could be...the woman who could have a destiny, who could shape her life as she saw it, with no one...not even Rumplestiltskin...to decide her fate but her...

It made her smile in the dark, this gain.

*******

 

Three nights she stayed in his bed of gold and pearls. The longest she has ever stayed…aching for him, writhing for him, coming for him.

She gave herself to him entirely, the two of them delighting in every new discovery as they explored each other’s flesh.

“Mine, mine, mine,” he crooned selfishly in her ear. She relished this, because he belonged to her too….and they both knew it.

Three nights she stayed, and on the third night he gave her a ring. He claimed her with kisses first, his eager tongue still wet with her juices, and slid the ring along her finger.

It was a beautiful gift: the gold band simple yet elegant in its craftsmanship, adorned with a shining opal that reminded Belle of seashells.

“Will you accept my token, dearest?” She leaned into his touch as he caressed the side of her face, tucking a lock of sweatsoaked hair behind her ear. “Will you join me in the darkest depths? Stay by my side always, as my queen? My sea bride for true? To watch over those that worship us from the shore?”

He declared all of this with a singsong cadence, but watched her intently so that she knew he was serious.

She said nothing.

Instead, she kissed him again...gathering him deep into her arms as her blue eyes pulsed with an amber gold sheen.


End file.
